


Fragments

by Annawry



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aesthetic bondage, Amnesia, Biting, Breathplay, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Catharsis, Crying, Dom/sub Undertones, Identity Issues, M/M, Possessive Bucky Barnes, Rough Sex, Sub Steve Rogers, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 20:30:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18198950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annawry/pseuds/Annawry
Summary: James tightens his grip, careful and slow, and uses the hand to pull Steve upright until he’s straddling James’ thighs and then further until the back of Steve’s neck is pressed against James’ ruined shoulder.





	Fragments

There are fragments of Bucky Barnes rattling around inside this messy head of his. He’s not Bucky. Not anymore than he’s Sergeant Barnes, or the Asset or the Winter Soldier. He’s all of them and something else besides; James, maybe. Or on the way to becoming James, what with his freshly minted sense of self and an autonomy he hasn’t had in decades.

This feels like a Bucky fragment though, for all that Steve protests it wasn’t like that, they weren’t like that. James thinks that if they weren’t it wasn’t because Bucky didn’t want it. The way James looks at Steve feels deep down old, tugging at something rooted right in his core. He thinks that even if it wasn’t like that for Bucky, it doesn’t matter, because it’s sure as hell like that for James. The way he wants to push at Steve is all him. Push him up against walls and down on his knees and hard against the floor. It’s both a relief and a frustration that he can’t leave marks on Steve’s skin, bruises healing even as they blossom. A relief because it means he has to seriously work to hurt Steve. He can grasp and grab at Steve. He can be rough and careless, doesn’t have to mind his strength so much. Doesn’t have to hold himself away and back and wary of the damage he can cause even when he doesn’t mean to. Frustrating because this is his, Steve is _his_ now and he wants to leave proof of his presence behind. He’s not a ghost, not anymore. He doesn’t want to disappear.

He’s found ways of making his presence felt anyway. Like the knotted cords he sometimes winds around Steve’s arms and up his neck. Not to restrain, just snug up against all that peachy, clear skin. Slipping from his t-shirt collar and out from under the sleeves so that everyone else can see. Tight enough that Steve can’t forget they’re there. It works. A little better than James maybe anticipated when, some days, just watching Steve walk around wrapped in his knots is enough to make his cock ache uncomfortably. Those days he’s rougher, more likely to shove Steve over the nearest surface, pin him down and dig his teeth in until Steve is shuddering beneath him, pliant and given over to James’ anything but tender mercies.

They’d talked about it before, of course. James might be a little fucked up but consent is essential to him these days. He’s not doing anything to anyone who isn’t whole heartedly on board and eager. It had been interesting to watch the red flush spread from Steve’s cheeks, down his throat and over his ears until he glowed with it. Turns out it’s not so much pain that does it for Steve as it is James, and the evidence of how much James wants him. He hadn’t really got it at first. Everyone with a heartbeat has pants feelings for Captain America. It took him a bit to realize that was why. James wouldn’t give his last two cents for the man with the plan. Steve though, with his stubborn jaw and graceful fingers, James wants every last inch of that.

It’s a little maybe the pain, too, though, because James can actually impact that altered body. He can bruise and manhandle, he can make it give in a way very few others can. And give it does, skin splitting beneath his teeth, fingers denting hard muscle, his weight pinning that gorgeous body and not letting up until Steve begs for it with his pretty, filthy mouth that the good people of the world would be shocked by; Their national icon detailing in explicit terms exactly what he’d do for the sake of James’ cock ( _Anything, anything_ ) and all the ways he wants it.

He has it now, face smashed up against their sheets with James pressing his chest all along the length of Steve’s bare back, sticky and hot with sweat and super soldier metabolisms. His cock is shoved about as far up inside Steve as he can get it, hips grinding relentlessly since he’s not willing to pull away enough to thrust. He’s pretty sure they can come like this anyway, plastered to each other, with him leaving teeth marks in Steve’s shoulders that rapidly purple and fade to pink as the indentations vanish. Steve is doing that thing where he’s shuddering and gone weak. Making those breathless little cries that tighten up James’ gut, twisting the heat there into something sharper. Makes James want to get his hands and mouth bloody on the body beneath him. He pulls his mouth off Steve and rolls his head back, rides the cresting desire for violence enough to pull back and out and grab Steve’s hips before slamming them together again, hard enough to hurt. Steve’s not quite so pliant after that, lifting himself up to brace against the headboard so he can push back, spitting curses like an alley cat.

But there’s still that breathless quality to Steve’s voice and there’s another deep down old fragment that has James sliding his left hand up and around Steve’s throat, metal fingers holding gently. This they haven’t talked about so he just keeps it there and listens to the shocked noise Steve makes before it’s all _yeah, yeah, yes, do it, choke me_ , Steve leaning his weight forward and into James’ hand, permission and begging both. James tightens his grip, careful and slow, uses the hand to pull Steve upright until he’s straddling James’ thighs and then further until the back of Steve’s neck is pressed against James’ ruined shoulder. He mouths the sweaty skin of Steve’s jaw and lets him get settled, until both of his hands are gripping James’s metal arm and his hips are rocking almost absently. _I’ll tap out if it’s too much_ , _I promise,_ Steve murmurs, and that’s finally enough. James growls, tightens the hand on Steve’s throat and hip and fucks him and feels fucked up for liking the way Steve’s back bows and he scrabbles at James’ arm, ineffectively trying to pull him off. Steve’s gasping is an airless rasp and James eventually realizes that he’s muttering at Steve. Nothing sensible, just stupid inanities like it’s okay, you’ll be okay, just listen to me breathe, breathe Steve, and Steve’s face is wet with more than sweat now, lashes dark and glued together with tears.

It doesn’t take James long like this. He’s struggling to breathe himself, lungs heaving and coming makes his brain white out, static fuzz to match the buzz in his body. He keeps his head enough to loosen his grip on Steve’s throat and has to ride out Steve’s thrashing through his own orgasm until they’re both slumped forward, James pressing his forehead between Steve’s shaking shoulder blades and listening to him cry. Now that his arousal is subsiding, guilt is making itself right at home; Steve sounds wrecked, and not entirely in the good kind of way. He doesn’t want to move them yet though, wants to stay wrapped around Steve until he’s settled a little, and maybe until James settles a bit himself. He strokes his flesh hand along Steve’s flank and murmurs apologies into his skin and waits until Steve takes one last shuddering, hiccupping breath and goes quiet before he pulls out carefully. Grabbing a hold of the hand Steve flails at him and saying, “Not going anywhere, darlin’, promise.” He stretches out alongside where Steve is still curled over his knees and gently pushes and pulls until Steve his stretched out with him, until Steve’s face is tucked under his chin and James can switch his soothing strokes to the long lines of Steve’s back.

“Wanna tell me what happened there?” he asks after several long moments and feels Steve tense before he lets it out with a heavy sigh, hot and humid against James’ skin.

“You used to do that. When I couldn’t breathe right. You’d hold me against your chest and try to get me to breathe along with you.”

James grimaces. He can usually tell when an impulse is from those days but with so many missing memories, grounding those desires in context... He heaves a sigh of his own, clears his expression and presses a kiss to the top of Steve’s head. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

Steve shakes his head and squirms his way up the bed a little until he can place a hand on James’ cheek and give James one of those earnest, heartfelt looks that he never quite knows what to do with.

“Don’t apologize, not for that. I-” Steve hesitates, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “It hurt, I won’t lie, it hurt a lot to remember how that felt. But it was good, too, you know?”

“Catharsis.” James says and Steve hums agreeably and shifts closer to nudge his mouth up against James’. Not kissing, just grazing their lips and breathing the same air.

“Missed you so bad.” Steve whispers and James feels that inevitable prick of unpleasant feeling when he can’t say the same. That twist of uncertainty that Steve even wants James, isn’t just with him because of those old not-quite dead pieces of Bucky.

If they weren’t like that, it wasn’t because Steve didn’t want it, either.


End file.
